


Some Days

by Petenshi



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Preventers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petenshi/pseuds/Petenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are Good days and Bad days.  And there are Some days.  At least that’s what I call them.  Those are the days where you just keep thinking, some day.  Some day, I’m going to make Agent Waterson respect me.  Some day I’m gonna get them to put something other than coffee in the break room.  Some day I’m going to stop working eighteen hour days and sleeping on the cot in my office.  Some day I’m going to stop trying to prove I’m good enough.  Some day I’ll tell Heero how I really feel.  Some day…well you get the picture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Days

**Author's Note:**

> The working title of this was totally "Fucking Perfect".

_ There are Good days and Bad days.  And there are Some days.  At least that’s what I call them.  Those are the days where you just keep thinking, some day.  Some day, I’m going to make Agent Waterson respect me.  Some day I’m gonna get them to put something other than coffee in the break room.  Some day I’m going to stop working eighteen hour days and sleeping on the cot in my office.  Some day I’m going to stop trying to prove I’m good enough.  Some day I’ll tell Heero how I really feel.  Some day…well you get the picture. _

_ It did seem like the some days were outweighing the good days or even the bad days lately.  I just hadn’t realized I wasn’t the only one having Some days.  I forget sometimes, I get so caught up in my pity party that I fail to notice when those closest to me are struggling too. _

This looked to be a day just like any other, I’d missed Heero at lunch but that wasn’t terribly extraordinary until I tuned into some of the quiet gossip being passed around the cafeteria.  I hate gossip, and I especially hate it when it’s about one of us.  And this wasn’t nice gossip of the, ‘oh do you see how strong and handsome he is?’ kind but rather of the sniping, ‘Agent so and so says he should have been able to do better’ yada yada yada.

Fucking jackels, all of them.

It wasn’t hard to locate Heero; mostly I just followed the hurried whispers coming out of the weight room.

Judging from the sweat pooling between his shoulder blades and the soggy mess of his hair, he’d been at it for a while.  I propped myself against a Lat machine and watched him for a moment.  He didn’t appear to be in any hurry to stop any time soon.  “What are you doing?”

He didn’t look up but his lips did curl in an unfamiliar snarl.  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Beating the shit out of a punching bag.”  I paused and then tipped my chin towards him, “Bare handed.”

Heero snarled again and delivered a particularly hard jab.  The bag wheezed, and judging from the thinness of the vinyl in the area he was hitting, was about to burst. 

“You’re a fucking genius.”

I raised an eyebrow, I could probably count on one hand the times I’d heard Heero swear.

“Alright, so perhaps a better question would have been,  _ why _ are you beating the shit out the punching bag bare handed?”

He didn’t respond just kept punching and punching.  I looked around and noted the stares, whispers and looks.  You would think Heero was offering them a one-man show, chaps optional.

So, first things first.

Walking back out the door, I rounded the corner and pulled the nearest fire alarm.  Jogging back, I burst in, arms waving frantically.  “IT fried another power grid, there’s a fire in the server room.  Everyone out!”

Some left quickly while others required a little encouragement.  One agent had to be picked up by the back of his pants and tossed out the door but eventually everyone was out of the gym and I slammed the door shut.  A quick over-ride into the program from my phone and the alarms stopped blaring, emergency called off.

Stomping back towards Heero, I finally managed to get him to look up from the bag.

“You’re crazy.”

“Says the man with the bloody knuckles.”

Heero was starting to wheeze a little as he drilled the bag, and I wondered exactly how long he’d been going at it.  True to his contrary nature, he doubled his speed, delivering bruising blows, the bag shuddering and finally, the fabric tore, unable to withstand the continual abuse. The filling burst out, foam sticking to his hair and eyelashes and he stopped finally, his right fist buried deep in the bag.  On any other occasion it would have been hilarious.

I didn’t laugh.

Heero continued to stare at the bag, his shoulders drooping as if in defeat.  When he did speak it was so quiet, I could barely make out the words.

“What does it matter?  I’m just Heero Yuy, perfect soldier…” He pulled his fist out and grabbed the bag, leaning forward.  “Perfect machine…” He slowly slid down until his knees touched the floor and his forehead rested against the base of the bag.  “Perfect.”

“You want me to kick their asses?”

He looked up, obviously surprised and I shrugged.  “I hear talk.  I figured you didn’t let it get to you but I know it starts to wear you down and then you feel as if you’ll never move again under all their bullshit.”

Heero sighed, gently thumping his head on the bag.  “We’re all supposed to be on the same side now.  If that’s so, then I must be doing something wrong.  And if I’m not, well…” He sat up a little, eyes narrowing angrily,  “What the  _ hell _ is their problem?”

“I don’t know.  They’re narrow minded.  Jealous.  Ignorant.”  I sighed and did my own one-two tap on the bag.  “If I hear one more crack about my hair I think I might be the one to drill a hole in someone.”

Heero snorted and finally loosened his grip, blood streaking down the side.

“You’re not a perfect soldier or a machine, you know.”  I crouched down next to him, so close I could feel heat coming off in him in waves.  “I do think you’re kind of perfect though,” I told him softly.

Looks like at least one of my Some days had finally arrived.

He turned his head slightly, eyes wide in surprise and I pressed on before I lost my nerve, “Scratch that.  You are _unbelievably_ , _fucking_ _perfect_.”

He shook his head so I raised my finger and wagged it at him like a disobedient school boy.  “No, hear me out. You’re the kindest person I know, the first to offer help, the best friend a person could ask for.  You’re always thinking about everyone but yourself.  I wouldn’t want you to change a single piece of who you are because  _ you _ are perfect.”  I grabbed a handful of his hair by the back of his head and shook it gently.  “You are the most perfect human being in the world.  And don’t you fucking forget that.”

I pulled one of Heero’s hands towards me and cradled it, touching the bruised and bloodied parts carefully. “Your beautiful hands.  Just look what you did.  They’re all smashed up now.” 

I traced the length of his fingers, turning it over and stroking the palm making Heero shudder.  “You have no idea the fantasies I have about these hands.  There’s the one where you’re field stripping a Glock, and my favorite, where they slowly reach up and start to unbutton…”

He coughed.  “You do realize I’m still here right?”

I rolled my eyes.  “Hush, Yuy.  Can’t you see I’m having a moment?”

“They’re  _ my _ hands!”

Looking up, I smiled.  “Precisely, and that’s what makes them all the more beautiful.” 

His lips twitched.  “Shall I get you three a room?”

I grinned.  “Don’t tempt me, Yuy.”

I stood, hauling him up as well.  “Fuck this melancholy shit.  They don’t deserve it from you.”

“And here I thought I was partaking in a healthy form of stress release.”

I snorted.  “You killed a punching bag.  For you, that’s like writing sad poems in your diary while listening to break-up music.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

I laughed and slung my arm over Heero’s shoulder, steering him through the doors. “Let’s go get a beer.”

“Sure.”

“You have to shower first, though.  You stink.”

Heero laughed and we walked out, leaving the mess behind us.

_ The best thing about a Some day is that it’s full of hope for the future.  It’s a possibility yet unexplored, potential waiting in the wings.  Good days and bad days are done days but Some days…Some days are everywhere. _


End file.
